


line up the bottles

by jj_blues



Series: there's nothing to be afraid of [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Brotherly Love, Damian Wayne Has Feelings, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Gen, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Humor, Implied Relationships, Magic, Tim Drake Has Feelings, Tim Drake is Alvin Draper, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jj_blues/pseuds/jj_blues
Summary: Damian gets drunk the night Jon comes back to him, seven years older than he originally was.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Chris Kent, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: there's nothing to be afraid of [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736926
Comments: 11
Kudos: 133





	line up the bottles

**Author's Note:**

> Sorta but not really sequel to my previous work.

In hindsight, Tim probably should've taken Damian to one of the higher-end clubs when the brat had wrinkled his nose at the bucket of beer placed in front of him.

"I don't drink, Draper."

"Liar."

Tim knew for a fact the waiters serve the brat champagne during galas. The brat does drink; he just never got wasted before. And tonight... well, tonight's the perfect opportunity to get wasted.

Because as much as the older brother in Tim wanted to help Damian hunt down the god for ruining the Kents' lives, he's not _that_ suicidal. Jon probably wouldn't let them, either. Seriously, the kid's (can he still call him a kid? Jon's, like, only three years younger than him now) far too precious for his own good. "Drink up, ghoulie. You look like you need it."

"This is stupid. Father has a perfectly good bottle of scotch in his office. We have a _cellar_ in the Manor."

He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Just drink, will you?"

Damian muttered what sounded like a threat in Arabic, but poured half the beer into the plastic cup, and took a sip anyway. He made a face almost immediately.

Tim hastily turned his laugh into a cough. "You know, if Jay was here, he would've called you a baby, baby ghoul."

"Shut _up_." The brat's expression twisted into something ugly. Before Tim could stop him, he reached for the bottle, and drained it in a single gulp.

Panic surged in Tim's chest. He didn't realize he made a grab for the bottle until his magic deposited it carefully on his side of the table. "Woah, ghouling, slow down! We haven't even been here for fifteen minutes yet."

"And?" Damian popped open yet another bottle using his ring, a trick he'd no doubt learned from Jason. "We could just order another bucket once we finish this one."

Okay, he couldn't argue with that. He did promise Steph they won't get home until he gets the baby ghoul drunk. _Speaking_ of getting him drunk...

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, in his most patient voice. Just like how Dick taught had taught him.

"I thought you dragged me inside this hell-hole of a bar to drink, not make small talk, witch."

Tim could feel a vein throb in his temple. No. Deep breaths, Tim, deep breaths. Alfred would be Very Disappointed™ if Damian returned to the Manor with a missing tongue. "I thought said you didn't drink about five minutes ago."

"Tt. I changed my mind, didn't I?"

Tim scoffed. "Yeah, whatever."

The music shifted into an R&B song he recognized as one of Ne-Yo's, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember the title of. He pulled up his phone to check his Instagram, half-mumbling along to the lyrics, half-listening to Damian continue to inhale his beer.

He squinted at the photo Conner had posted an hour ago, which mentioned him in the caption ("⛼🕶" 📸: _@timmy_wayne_ ). It showed Conner leaning against a concrete wall, hands shoved inside the pockets of his slacks, suit jacket thrown over his shoulder. He stared straight at the camera, his smoldering expression practically screaming 'bad boy' vibes. Tim had taken the picture two nights ago after convincing him to sneak out of the gala for an impromptu night photography session.

The next photo showed a close-up of Kyle Rayner's unfinished sketch of the Los Angeles skyline. Tim's like joined the hundreds of Kyle's followers.

He scrolled through the rest of the posts, leaving likes on some of the better photos on his feed. A shot of Mont Saint Michel under a blanket of stars. A portrait of a redhead model in the afternoon light.

"...listening to me?"

"Keep your voice down." He raised his head from his phone to look around, but the other patrons weren't paying them any attention. Not for the first time, he's thankful for Dick's magic. Damian Wayne getting drunk in My Alibi, and Tim letting him? They could kiss their reputations good-bye if they weren't wearing glamour. "I don't know about you, but I don't want us to get kicked out, thank you very much. I paid 30 dollars for the beer you're currently drinking."

"Are you done?"

Tim narrowed his eyes. "Fuck you, that's _my_ line."

But the little shit just took a swig from his...third bottle? Fourth bottle? "As I was saying, I've had sufficient time to process the situation." Sufficient time? Yeah, right. Damian had four hours at most. "And, I have come to the conclusion that it's not entirely troublesome."

Tim almost dropped his phone. Holy shit, the brat can't be drunk already, can he? Can half-ghouls even _get_ drunk? "Fuck. Okay, look. The way I see it, Jon's, well - he was ten three weeks ago. And now he's seventeen. Seven years gone in the blink of an eye. And it's not like the curse is irreversible, because you know I would've done everything in my power to break it. So I'm pretty sure the situation's the exact opposite of not troublesome."

Unsurprisingly, Damian shook his head. "No. You're wrong. He's still Jon. Just...older. And more appetizing. I want to eat him." Alarm bells started to ring in Tim's head. Didn't they beat this instinct out of Damian two years ago? "But...not the way I normally eat people." Oh, thank god. "I want to... I want to. Eat him. Like the way Christopher eats Richard in their bedroom."

Tim choked on air. What the _fuck_? First of all, Damian's fourteen. Does he even know what he's saying? Second, yep, he's drunk. Does he even know what he's saying?!

"D," Tim began, and he mentally thanked all the gods again his voice didn't shake, "are you sure?"

Shit, that's not what he was supposed to ask. He's supposed to tell the brat he shouldn't be thinking about things like eating somebody out until he's twenty-one. Or eighteen, at least.

A small part of Tim wanted to cast a sleeping spell on his brother so the conversation wouldn't accidentally be added to the Top Ten Things Tim Wayne Could've Lived Without Knowing™, but there'd be hell to pay if the brat discovered he'd used his magic on him without his consent, and he wasn't particularly keen on fending off murderous half-ghouls before he'd had his coffee.

"I'm quite sure, Tim." Damian caught himself. "Alvin, I mean. Alvin. I like Jon, you know. And he probably doesn't care. But I..." The brat swallowed. His fingers tightened around his beer. For one wild moment, Tim had a horrible vision of the bottle exploding, and glass and alcohol raining around the bar. "I want him. I want him very much."

Aw, shit. Tim's heart tugged at the longing in Damian's voice. Damn, the after-effects of the god's curse must've really screwed his little brother over. It's clear he already found Jon cute before, but the curse definitely sent his poor hormones into overdrive.

"Do you think he likes me?" Damian had let go of the bottle to tap his fingers on the table.

"Um." Tim chewed on his lip, suddenly feeling very much like a deer caught in the headlights. What would Dick say? Probably something along the lines of, _'D, stop worrying! Jon's still Jon, cursed or otherwise.'_ Yeah, Tim could do this. He could comfort the little demon. He just needed to channel his inner Dick Wayne. "You know, even if Jon doesn't like you that way, he still cares for you very much."

"Really?" Damian seemed to perk up a bit at that.

"Yeah, really." Good Brother Tim - 1, Everyone Else Except for Dick Wayne - 0.

"Okay." Damian nodded. He tried, and failed, to suppress a yawn. "Okay."

Tim slid his phone back inside his pocket. "C'mon, baby ghoul. Let's go home. I think we're done for the night."


End file.
